


A Faint Heart Never Won Fair Agent

by MiseryLovesMe32



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Christmas Jumpers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Harry and Eggsy find it all amusing and a lil frustrating, JB is a legend, M/M, Merlin has a weakness for puppies, Merlin just wants to keep his favourite agent safe, Mutual Pining, Roxy is a busy lady but still keeps an eye on him, Schmoop, and cake, and knits, and maybe a little bit more, five things + 1 kinda fic, shirtless merlin, who the hell doesn't?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 20:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiseryLovesMe32/pseuds/MiseryLovesMe32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'Helping Hand'</p><p>Merlin just wants to keep Roxy safe and maybe try an express his feelings by making her things. But it doesn't always go to plan. And then there's the puppy dilemma...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Faint Heart Never Won Fair Agent

* * *

 

When Roxy returns from a mission with two cracked ribs and a knife wound to her side, Merlin begins conjuring solutions. A Kingsman suit can only do its job when worn, but when undercover at a black tie event and trying to blend in, a dress is certainly required. In this instance, a lovely red number as to the target’s particular tastes.

But though it didn’t in anyway impede Roxy's ability to fight, it did nothing to defend - to protect her from five bodyguards and their group tactics. However, while Lancelot came home with minor injuries, none of them had walked away.

Merlin’s concern over what could've happened though plagues his mind. His determination steeled every time she laughs; her eyes and nose crinkling that way they do, only to wince, face screwing up in pain. He knows something has to be done for future undercover missions. He can't and won't allow it to happen again.

So spending the next four weeks with reams of assorted fabric and materials, and not allowing the head Kingsman tailors, Harrison and Jessop, to work on anything else. The trio creates an adaptable piece of cloth - light as silk, soft as cotton, near impenetrable, and shock absorbent. Just like a Kingsman suit, but fit to be made into any style of evening wear, not just bespoke jackets.

Merlin presents the prototype in the form of a slim vest, for Roxy to wear instead of her usual gym wear. During the training session, he watches intently, eyes focused on each of Eggsy’s attacks and attempts at winding her. But any that do hit have no effect. The punches lose their weight and power in the fabric, until Roxy finally decides to land him on the mat.

“This is amazing, Merlin. You’re a genius.” She beams; no sign of pain.

The senior technician simply tilts his head in agreement, muting his inner delight, while Roxy lends a hand to the man on the floor.

“Yeah,” Eggsy wheezes. “It’s great.”

The next gadget is more individual, more fitting a woman of Roxy’s abilities. A gold hair pin; discreet, unassuming, but ever so deadly in the right hands. Because despite its long, slender design, the metal he formulated is unyielding; strong to a lethal point. But it also contains a sealed dose of tranquiliser, enough to down an elephant.

Or at least knockout a certain pug for four hours. Eggsy will never know.

Merlin gifts the pin to Roxy before departing on a mission, demonstrating where and what pressure to apply to the hair accessory. And the way her face lights up, well it certainly makes the long hours of fiddling, frustration, and accidentally tranq-ing himself seem more than worth it. The self-induced nap hadn’t been entirely unwelcome in any case.

And later on, witnessing Roxy wield the gadget, dispatching three armed men and then swiftly pressing it into the corrupt scientist's neck, watching him fall limp to the floor. Her actions performed with precision and grace, hypnotising like a dance. Well, it’s simply a sight to behold.

Now heels aren’t new in the Kingsman wardrobe - there have been three previous female agents, though not during his time as chief technician and handler. Certain missions do require male agents to don certain personas and disguises. However, the pumps sat in dressing room three at the tailors, lack a certain something. Yes, like the Oxfords and Brogues, they conceal a blade in the sole, but no more hidden arsenal.

Merlin hums thoughtfully as he plucks a black pair from the shelf to examine, firmly believing there is room for improvements. Especially now, when he has an adept female agent on his watch, and whom deserves only the best.

Not two weeks later, those new additions consist of a small blow torch within the left heel, while the right; a hand grenade, the stiletto able to be detached and detonated.

And these fashionable upgrades grab the attention of the new Galahad. When Roxy is away on a two week recon mission, Eggsy keeps a special eye on the man as per her request. Though, when Eggsy can’t find sleep, he normally wanders to the lab anyway. And every time he finds Merlin fast asleep, his curiosity urges him to take a closer look at what the clever man has on his work bench.

Now, he’s learnt not to touch - at least when Merlin’s around. He cringes remembering the bruises that covered his body from the paintballs for a week. Then shivers at the memory of what proceeded. Of Harry’s attention to each of them, showing his sympathy with a soft, attentive mouth, and adding a few of his own.

But Eggsy can recall the beginnings of the new material Merlin presented to Roxy - sewing machine by his head as he napped, and the notes and drawings beneath his cheek. Then there were the designs and trimmings of metalwork that formed her hair pin. But now shoes?... The left pump cradled gently against Merlin’s chest as he snoozes quietly.

And Eggsy can’t help but share this information with the new Arthur, Harry Hart.

“She requires specialist equipment, Eggsy,” is all the man says, concentration not leaving the document in front of him. Then he jots a note; fingers flourishing the pen with a rhythm and purpose akin to how he used to wield a weapon.

He has yet to return to the field, and may never do. Eggsy personally has no qualms with that, however selfish that may be. While Harry is simply happy to be out of the infirmary and contributing in a more active way, even if it is mostly clerical at the moment.

“But Harry…” He goes to argue his point a little more, pulling up a chair next to him. "It seems to me..."

“Eggsy,” Harry gives him a pointed-look over the top of his glasses, dipped low on his nose. “Let it be, love.” And pats his knee.

Except the young agent doesn’t leave alone. How could he? Merlin is being too subtle. And Roxy’s so busy, how is she ever going to have the time to notice? So he helps by red flagging it. Bringing it up when they’re in the main lab two days later.

“You never make me things,” he sulks.

Merlin frowns; green eyes un-amused, as the young agent pouts down at the beautiful pair of handcrafted high heels he’s just gifted Roxy.

Who laughs. “Would you like to try them, Eggsy? You did quite well in boot camp; you had a natural sway if I remember rightly,” she grins. “Perhaps if you ask politely enough…” She trails off with a wink.

Eggsy blushes and stutters, the conversation having not gone at all to plan. "I didn't mean..."

Roxy’s playful banter at Eggsy's expense is normally entertaining, but this time returns Merlin to his desk. Where his fingers fidget, and then begin organizing folders already in order. Until Roxy appears at his side once more, at shoulder height this time; not so very far away.

She places a gentle hand on his arm and offers him a smile. “Thank you, Merlin.”

Then Percival appears at the door for his goddaughter. “Come on, love. Planes waiting.”

And so she leaves on another week long mission. Yes, she has Percival; the pair teaming up for the second time now. But he finds greater comfort in the click of her brand new heels as she goes.

“They’ll keep her safe,” Merlin whispers to himself.

When Roxy’s birthday rolls around, she clearly states she does not want a party or a celebration of any sort. She doesn’t want the fuss.

Mindful of her wishes, Merlin decides upon another course of action. He quietly observes, and then inquires discreetly in Percival’s company - the man being her godfather after all. Because Merlin reasons, she may not want a fuss made of her, but Roxy should at least have cake on her big day.

With all research compiled and analyzed, he decides upon a Coffee and Amaretto recipe, puts on his 'License to Grill' apron and rolls up his sleeves.

When Harry, unable to sleep, strolls into the kitchen at two in the morning and finds his close friend smudged with flour and streaked with chocolate icing. Wearing the joke apron he'd bought him three years ago, he's too stunned to say a thing. Of all the compromising secrets he has on the man, this one is by far the most revealing, and heartwarming.

However, on the morning of the big day, a kidnapping occurs of a politician’s little boy and Roxy offers her services, not accepting no for an answer. “I’d rather be out in the field, with you in my ear, doing something worthwhile,” she says, practically dragging Merlin onto the jet. Then upon sitting in the co-pilot’s chair, she adds. “And I don’t trust Percival.”

And Roxy had every right not to. When she returns late that same night - toddler safely with his parent's once more, and with the new knowledge of Merlin's ability to have a scared child smiling in under two minutes, as if being abducted hadn't happened at all - her only wish is a hot shower, and maybe a spot of tea.

Roxy ponders making a pot and going to visit a certain man she knows is still downstairs in the armoury. But upon entering her quarters, she's greeted by a burst of confetti and shouts of “Happy Birthday!”

Percival is lucky Roxy was relieved of her weaponry for cleaning.

But to top it off, her godfather had the most spectacular, three-tiered masterpiece made by a top London chef. “Thanks Merlin, you gave me the idea.” Nudging the man when he arrives.

Merlin fixes a smile and ignores the pang in his chest. “Happy to have helped.”

But the proof is in the pudding. Eggsy having been quite enthusiastic about the fantastic looking cake, nearly spits it back onto his plate. Plan B involves him trying to feed some to JB, who sniffs and refuses to eat it. “You’re meant to help me,” he pleads under his breath, shooting his own puppy-dog eyes at the pug at his feet. Only to be denied with a snort.

Even Harry finds it difficult to swallow; the sponge over-soaked in alcohol, overpowering the chocolate. But everyone hides their displeasure, deploying their skill set out of ingrained British politeness. Stiff upper lip and all that.

When the party’s over, Roxy having firmly kicked everyone out, Merlin decides not to throw away his attempt. He's very proud of his effort. Instead, he picks up the humble but beautifully iced cake hidden away in his office, and goes downstairs.

Six puppies greet him excitedly when he enters the lower chambers, bouncing in their pens, until they see his gloomy state and begin to whine. Allowing them out and to sit around his feet, they look to him sadly, ignoring the cake completely at their master's melancholy. With a sigh, refusing to let the chocolate sponge go to waste, Merlin shares a little with each pup.

When JB manages to find his way down; whether it’s the smell of the cake or sensing Merlin's sadness, no one will ever know. But all seven dogs asking eagerly for seconds is a consolation that does return a small smile to his face.

It’s rare Merlin gets a spare day, even with his workload lessened thanks to Harry’s further recovery. He still has to schedule anything unrelated to work, including sleeping and eating at times. But Christmas has always been a simple card affair for him since starting this job. The only time he made an exception was Harry’s trademark Rainmaker.

It’s the thought that counts at the end of the day, and a little personal message contained within each card he gives out. A puzzle for Harry. A tongue twister for Caradoc. And this year, a promise to Eggsy that he won't experiment on JB anymore. He’ll never trust Harry again with such sensitive information.

But Merlin finds himself once more wandering to his work station in the early hours, coffee mug steaming, and putting pencil to paper. He normally uses digital software when crafting; it’s quicker, but he finds himself missing the feel of an HB between his fingers and the scratch of graphite. And his imagination flows through to his fingertips and onto the white page, creating a delicate gold design with only one person on his mind. The only person he couldn’t seemingly write an appropriate and witty Christmas message to - the words either never enough, or too much.

Though come the most wonderful day of the year, Roxy strides into Merlin's office as if on a mission, before spending the day with her family. The man startles, caught off-guard, less by her sudden presence and more by her red, Rudolph flashing jumper.

But it's her following actions which leave him stunned into silent compliance. When she proceeds to swiftly pull off his sweater and replace it with a green cashmere one. Roxy straightens out the material, letting her hands run the strong line of his shoulders, then adjusts his crooked glasses.

“Perfect fit,” she grins, happy with herself. It had taken her four weeks to knit in-between missions. But she'll keep that to herself for now, a little nervous.

Merlin goes to agree; a little delayed, to concur on the sizing. But the words die on his tongue as Roxy reaches under the material to press a tiny switch. And low and behold, the embroidery on the Christmas tree, and cheeky set of Kingsman glasses sewed into the centre, light up and twinkle.

“Merry Christmas, Merlin.” Her smile so bright, he can’t help but mimic it back.

It’s a lovely gift. A fun little present embodying the holiday spirit. And for that reason, it crushes his.

Merlin suddenly can’t bring himself to give the necklace to her. Unlike everything else, it is what it is - no special ability or hidden gadget. He thought to place a tracker in the small jewelled pendant, just in case she ever lost communiqué or, heaven forbid, she was caught and held captive. He’d be able to locate her and bring her home.

But no, the necklace is truly a gift, no way of disguising it as anything else. And that makes it worse because such jewellery is personal, very personal. It’s hard evidence of his affections that he isn't sure are reciprocated. He believed once - thought he’d seen a small flicker of more than just professional warmth towards him. But now he puts it down to wishful thinking. He should’ve known better.

So Merlin refrains from handing over the wrapped satin box, keeps it hidden in his desk drawer, and instead presents her with a card of Season’s Greetings. Not a whisper of his true feelings is transcribed in his handwriting, just a small anecdote about poodles that does make her chuckle.

Roxy will never know about the necklace. She'll also never know he spent three hours in his favourite armchair, mulling over the five cards he bought just for her. So indecisive, Merlin ended up looking to the half-dozen pups at his feet, their backs warmed by the fireplace, for second opinions. All focused as he showed them each festive card and yipped once for no or twice for yes, as he’d taught them. At least they narrowed it down to two.

JB made the final decision though, as he ate one.

***

When Merlin had first filled his position, he followed the rules handed down to him. He had to prove himself. He knew all too well the chip on Eggsy’s shoulder, for he too had had one. He’d been the dark horse candidate not favoured for the job. Yet, there he stood, and here he still stands.

The first time Merlin broke any rule however, was over a dog. The day he adopted Lee Unwin's Springer spaniel, Flash (Gordon), which, at the time, he convinced himself was out of respect, duty - not guilt. And believing the young dog would be a suitable companion to Trudy; help keep his dear Doberman spry. May they both rest in peace.

But now, more than proven himself, and softened a little by age, Merlin currently finds his every move tracked by Archy, Holmes, Watson, Jasper, Smith, and Poppet.

It’s been five months since they were left to him. Some of the unsuccessful candidates upset by confessing they wouldn’t be able to care for them. But it was the three, who refused to take to their respective pups out of resentment; not wanting a reminder of their failure, that boiled Merlin’s anger. Conveyed in his lack of restraint when escorting each individual off the premises with the drone once more loaded with paintballs. And this time, with Eggsy cheering him on.

But the time had come. They’re a lot to care for as a group, and he can't just choose one, it wouldn't be fair. Putting them in a sanctuary to be adopted is the responsible thing to do. He already has to look after a whole team of Kingsman agents - even with Harry’s help, they’re a handful. Admittedly, he finds the puppies a lot easier to manage, but he can hardly put the agents up for adoption. Though tempting.

Merlin trusts the woman, Maggie, he presents them too. She’s friendly and listens as he hands over their toys and tells her each of their individual needs and quirks.

Archy, with his big German shepherd ears (that he still hasn’t grown in to) likes them scratched to help him sleep. Holmes and Watson are inseparable, so best not to try unless you want an unnecessary amount of noise – the Irish Setter and Jack Russell must be adopted as a pair.

Jasper is an early riser - if you don’t get up when he does, the Husky will howl or sit on you until you do. Smith, will eat anything. _Anything_. Including socks, glasses, and soap, and proceed to smile about it like all Samoyeds do.

The fact the silver-haired woman takes notes, despite the extensive paperwork he’s already filled out, comforts Merlin greatly. And he needn’t explain Poppet’s habit by this point, as the not-so-small black Labrador has tried to climb on Merlin’s lap five times already.

He does not glance over his shoulder as he leaves, for their sake. And he resolutely does not shed a single tear. Not one. No, simply takes a slightly longer detour back to HQ because he can. And if he puts the main lab on lockdown; himself within it, and refuses to see anyone, it’s because he has a lot of work to do.

Even with so many assignments, Roxy had witnessed the way Merlin was with the orphaned, canine recruits.

A few times after she completed missions, she'd popped in just to see the man and make sure he’d eaten. Only to find him asleep, out like a light and hunched over his work bench. This was not an unfamiliar sight for Roxy, especially in the last year. But the six puppies curled up under his desk were.

The early morning runs became a staple, like clockwork, Seven AM, on the dot. She’d roll over in bed and witness from her window as he jogged steadily around the grounds. Roxy would sometimes pull up a chair, still wrapped up in her duvet, and open the window to listen as he played games - to test their intelligence and obedience, of course.

More often than not though, she’d urged herself out of bed, Bo as well, and the black poodle and her would catch up with the lively brood and their proud, mother hen. Funnily enough, Eggsy, Harry, and other agents from Ector, to the newly appointed Bedivere, also joined in on the jog some days. The energy of the young pups brightened everyone's mood.

Whether experimenting in the laboratory (each given specially-adapted protective goggles), overseeing training sessions, coffee breaks to and from the kitchen. Or checking the security systems about the mansion and its perimeters, they followed him everywhere, like ducklings waddling after mum.

And though Merlin tried to keep it quiet; wanting to keep some dignity, Roxy knows he started letting the furry lot sleep in his quarters during the winter months.

Recovering from a lengthy extraction, she’d retired to bed immediately, only for her stomach to wake her much later and with a loud grumble urge her to seek the kitchen. Except when Roxy opened her bedroom door, she'd found a wrapped plate of food and a flask of soothing herbal tea. The surprise and thud of her heart was interrupted only by the pitter-patter of feet ascending up the stairs.

Curious, she’d tiptoed up one more flight and peered round the corner, to observe the most unbelievable sight - Merlin holding open his oak-panel door for a single file line of puppies to trot in. A part from a playful black lab, who was crouched on the floor, prised for a bounce.

“Come on, Poppet. Up to,” the Scot said with a tilt of his head, unable to disguise a smile. Only for his lips to grow wider, dimples showing, as the little one wiggled its bum and leapt up with a yip. He caught the black lump mid-air, then held her up close to his face. "Rascal, you are." To which, she licked his nose.

It’s been five days according to Harry since Merlin took them to the shelter. The former-Galahad expressing quite clearly his worry over his friend's detached emotional state. She goes straight away at the news,  despite her body aching from only just returning from a job. But there’s not a second to lose.

Oh how she prays she isn’t too late, that none of them have been adopted yet, dialing the centre's number. For Merlin’s sake. The man is paler than when she’d left not a week ago and a little hollow in the cheeks.

All her hard work this past year undone by a bunch of puppies. It’s bloody ridiculous. But decides then, as she chooses the Range Rover, she’s not above dog-napping.

***

With the shrill cry from his alarm clock, Merlin slowly reaches over and switches it off. He'd been waiting for the electronic numbers to alter, to finally read seven am. His mind and body for the sixth day running hasn’t let him sleep soundly; waking him through the night, discovering no gentle snuffles or snores around his bed. And then at six, when for the past several months he began his morning routine.

But there is no longer any basis for it, to get up early, to sleepily dodge around the slumbering mutts on his way to the bathroom. And by the time his teeth were cleaned and faced washed; they’d all be sat up, tails wagging, ready to go. Except Watson, the Jack Russell so tired from keeping up with Holmes and himself the previous day, would still be soundly asleep. On those mornings, he’d pick the poor fellow up, stroll down to the kitchen with the others tight on his heels, and wake the small terrier slowly to the smell of strong, fresh coffee.

Merlin sighs, gazing out over the empty grounds and scatterings of trees. He’d normally be leading the pups out across the green grass, Archy and Smith in front, noses to the ground, being tickled by the morning dew. Poppet and Jasper would flank him on his left and right, alert and scanning the boundaries, not even batting an eye at the rabbits hopping about. Watson and Holmes taking up the rear; the smaller of the pair now wide awake and easily keeping pace with his friend.

But not today. Not tomorrow. Never again will they jog beside him, barking happily and then settle, single file like good little children, and listen carefully for instructions.

Merlin turns over, taking a pillow with him and places it over his head. Trying to block out the memories, block out the sounds of their yips. But even with the padded cotton over his ears, he can still hear them, their howls.

And it persists, gets louder, until a familiar voice and laugh breaks up the chorus. A feminine lilt to both; one he’s become so used to, so attached to over the last year and a half…

He startles and lifts the pillow, listening for a moment.

At another loud drawn out bark, Merlin throws back the duvet and goes to the open window, for his breath to catch at the sight below.

Roxy laughs sweetly, rubbing Jasper's head after a very impressive howl. "That should do it," she smiles at him.

She whistles a long note then and claps her hands twice like she witnessed Merlin do so many mornings. "Come on, you lot." And all the pups bound up and sit down in a neat row in front of her, ready and looking to Roxy for instructions.

Or they were for a few seconds, whereas now they’re all staring behind her.

Their tails immediately start up a frantic rhythm, and so does a chorus of excited barking. Roxy twists round, hopeful, and there is the sight she’d hoped to see marching across the grounds towards them. The very man she’d hoped to wake, even encouraging Archy and Jasper to be louder with their excitement.

Except reading Merlin’s stride and sober expression, he doesn’t look happy at all, making her smile disappear.

Roxy begins to panic and regret her decision. As when the dogs decide to leave their posts, wanting to run and meet him, Merlin swipes out his right arm, halting their movements instantly.

Now they sit in a line, with Lancelot dead centre, and Merlin aiming for her.

And if Roxy wasn’t suddenly so terrified as he approaches fast across the field, she’d be shocked, and maybe turning a slight shade of pink. As in-between fraught thoughts, her mind finally catches up to the fact Merlin is dressed only in a pair of tartan pajama bottoms. The man must’ve vacated his bed and left his quarters in such a blind rush, he didn’t remember to put on a shirt.

“Lord have mercy,” she whispers to herself, and bites her lip.

Roxy braces herself, fingers fisting at her sides, when he stops not four feet from her.

Merlin catches her stare when she lifts it guiltily from his bare chest, then gestures with his hands to the line of puppies either side of her. “Is this your doing?” Scottish accent still rough from sleep.

She swallows, then gives a tiny nod. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Roxy begins. Her mind in that second brings forth every reason she’d thought of on the journey to pick them up.

 _Because they’re a part of the team; already trained. Everyone loves them; they’re part of the Kingsman family. Because they could protect the mansion, protect you, when we’re away. Because they keep you company and make you smile._ And it’s the latter she settles on.

“Because they make you happy.”

A brief moment of silence passes; no breeze, bird or insect heard.

Then Merlin takes a step forward, green eyes still impassive, unwavering. “You know what else makes me happy?”

_Not being undermined. Not having your decisions ignored. Not unnecessarily being dragged out of bed and into the cold at seven in the morning, with no shirt on..._

Before Roxy’s conscience can continue, Merlin halts any further thoughts by gently taking her face in his hands. And his stern expression dissolves into an emotional little smile. “You.”

Roxy’s gasp of surprise is sealed by Merlin closing the gap between them and kissing her. Lips capturing hers in a tender but firm expression of his pent up feelings, no longer holding back. Every ounce of love and admiration bleeding through into the way he bends and dips low to cover her mouth fully with his. And Roxy can only whimper, wrapping her arms around him, going up on her toes to meet his kiss with just as much heart.

And when the puppies start barking and bouncing around them in excitement, they don’t stop, just smile and continue.

While back at the mansion, the noisy commotion woke Eggsy and Harry, and brought them to the window to witness the whole thing.

“Finally,” they both sigh.

And JB sat on the windowsill, snorts in agreement.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I got a little carried away with this haha! And I've never had such a hard time naming a story and writing a summary, jeez. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed it though :)
> 
> Cake recipe - http://www.sophielovesfood.com/2014/07/coffee-hazelnut-amaretto-cake.html
> 
> Inspiration for Xmas jumper - http://i.ebayimg.com/00/s/NTAwWDUwMA==/z/FloAAOxycmBSyK-c/$_35.JPG?set_id=2
> 
> Bo is named after Violette Szabo *shrugs* It came to me and I liked it.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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